Category Archives: Short Narrative

“A Psychopath’s Stream of Consciousness”

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I was running…

I came to a nearby dumpster and hid behind it, in a small space, the weight of the large sack I’m carrying doing it’s best to slow me down. It’s as if it wanted to let the police catch me. They almost did, though I was lucky enough to find a nook to hide in. They won’t find me here. The repulsive stench would be enough to draw them away. And also it would camouflage the aroma from whatever’s inside the sack, now a little crimson in shade.

Footsteps… It can’t be them. Those lazy, fat doughnut gobblers would be to classy and too tired to look here. But still I had to see who those footsteps belonged to. I peeked from behind the huge thrash bin. I saw only a couple of teenagers walking, holding hands and swaying as if they were drugged or something. “Kids these days” I thought.


I come to my senses. The moonless night must be wearing me down. I sit on my flower patterned, velvet armchair. I look at my digital watch which just a minute ago beeped – signaling me that an hour has passed and it’s now 8:30 PM. Looking up from my watch, I see two wineglass near the table lamp beside me, one is full and the other half empty. I take a sip from the latter one.

I met this incredible woman earlier that day near the mall where I use to take a stroll, just admiring the fresh air. I bumped into her and apologized but she only gave a smile as a reply. I knew then that we would be friends. That same morning, I invited her to a coffee shop to express how truly sorry I am for bumping into her. We had an interesting chat. She told me that she was a writer and was on the verge of creating her first book. I smiled in return and never said a thing about my life but she never asked anyway. After our conversation we exited the coffee shop. I saw her walking down the street, her bag full of papers, including the one I slipped in; a note in which my number and my address was written.


I rub my eyes and inhale the fume of smoke from a factory beside my apartment room. An hour has passed again since I last checked my watch. I hear a buzz behind me. I sit straight and twist around my comfy sofa to check where the noise was coming from. It’s a small bee perched on top of my old and dusty typewriter, the surface covered in dust. What an odd sight it was . I turn back and ignore the harmless insect. Contemplating on the forgotten seems a little bit unnecessary to me.

Come to think of it, it has been years since I last used that typewriter. I used to compose romance novels and I have to say I was rather good at it. I jabbed away all those fantasies inside my brain and put them into written words. I had quite a knack for it though my friends, few as they were, always asked me “All those stories you’ve written and you’ve never experienced those in real life?” I just tuned out their teasing remarks and continued writing more romantic novels for the public to read. Though in the back of my mind I was thinking “Someday I will find her.”


I check my watch again. It reads 10:00 PM. I’m sure they must have figured it out by now. I jostle on my armchair and wait for something I’ve waited since earlier this evening. I look again beside me and saw the wineglass, the one still full. “If only she came here and not ignored me.” I ponder. I reach under the table where the wine glass sit and bring out a thick photo album. I flip through the pages as I look at her pictures and news clippings once more. The wine inside the glass ripples as I hear a loud knock at the door. Finally. Someone calls out from outside, his voice muffled by the thick door in front of me which separated us.

Bang! A gunshot I presume. Then the door flings open and in come a dozen police, all spilling inside while pointing their guns at me. The chief, I notice because of his badge, asks me a single question which I find amusing – “Where is the body?”

I grin in return, not saying anything else. They cuff me and drag me down the apartment and through the busy street and inside one of their police cars. As the driver turns on the ignition I take one last look out the window and see two teenagers walking past the commotion, holding hands while swaying. “Kids these days” I complain under my breath and can’t help but smile as I remember a certain foul place…



“Rigor Mortis”

WARNING: (Not for the faint of heart)

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“What a lovely moon tonight.”

The atmosphere is calm and serene. It’s as if everyone in town is sleeping… except me. I’m a very busy man. Got a lot of stuff to do. I just went to the market to buy something… essential. Now I’m driving my black SUV, heading home where I could relax a bit and get working on my project. Something caught my eye. A piece of paper, pinned to a nearby post, the word “MISSING” is boldly printed below. A picture of a face is shown almost covering the whole paper. Then I saw it again… then again… and again… As I was driving many more pieces of paper with different faces were posted on every lamp post, bench, wall, and tree I pass by. I’ve never known these missing people… and yet they seem vaguely familiar… as if from a nightmare or something. “Where could they have possibly gone to?” 

Then I saw it. Another piece of paper, this time with a face I knew. A girl I saw a few days ago. She was coming home from school. 18 years of age, very beautiful. She was so care-free like she’s got no problem at all. What a silly character she was. She looked very… interesting. I finally got home after a very long trip from town. My house was built in the middle of a forest with just a narrow path leading to it. I’ve lived in this house when I was a child and since then, I never left. “If only my parents could see me now.” I sighed. “They would be so proud.”

I opened the door and went inside. Carrying a very heavy bag of… supplies for my project, I slowly went down to the basement. Now my basement was quite huge. It is where I kept all of my projects. I turned on the only source of light which was a fluorescent lamp in the ceiling. “Good evening.” I greeted. She was lying on a stretcher. “I saw your picture on a flyer on the way here. Your parents must be worried.” It was the same girl I saw just a few days ago.  She was tied to the stretcher, her mouth gagged, and she was struggling very hard. Her breath is very visible because of the cold temperature in the basement. “Sshh. Don’t strain yourself. I know it’s cold. I need it to be cold in here or else they will be angry.”  I pointed to another room where my “projects” were kept. Her eyes widened and she thrashed more and more. I was forced to give her the needle. She thrashed and accidentally scratched my hand. I injected her and the heavy breathing faded into…


I enjoy working in peace. I got to work. I tore off all her clothes and cleaned her with soap and water. “Pallor Mortis” The first stage of death kicked in. Her skin became paler by the minute. I better hurry up. I retrieved the supply I bought and hooked it up to the machine. The container slid smoothly into the embalming mechanism.

“Algor Mortis” The second stage was now taking effect. Her body temperature dropped quickly. Her body became colder as if made from ice. I have to finish the process before the third stage kicks in! I felt a tingling sensation as I punctured a wound through the girl’s stomach. Turning the machine on, I smirked as I saw all those blood sucked out from her body into the machine. Afterwards, all the blood was sucked out and replaced by the “formaldehyde” (embalming liquid). The wound was also cleaned. Faster!… I brought out some clothes I got from the market. A new and clean uniform for my new friend. I dressed her body and untied her from the bed and positioned her body to a stand I made a few days ago. I raised her right hand to assume a waving position. I then put her other hand at her back and scrunched up her face only a little so it looks like she was smiling… very beautiful.

Rigor Mortis Finally, the third stage took effect. Her body grew stiff. It hardened until it looked like she was a wax figure from a museum… A masterpiece! I carried her to the other room to meet her new friends. I entered and realize that these “projects” were also the ones I saw earlier posted everywhere. “Meet your new friends.” I told her. Now she has many new friends: one is a doctor, the other a lawyer, a carpenter, a soccer player, a boy playing a flute, a lady teacher, an actor, a plumber. She even got a dog to be her pet. Now she was also my new friend. “You will be so happy here.” I turned off the lights and left the basement, the tingly sensation now wearing off and making me drowsy. I looked outside the night sky through the window…..

Quietness… Peace…

“What a lovely moon tonight.”